A/N: Thanks for the reviews, folks. I would have responded personally but FFN wasn't the only one with a problem. Technology is wonderful -- when it works.
Hoshi felt Jon's hand tighten on hers where it rested on his shoulder. Her reply to Galarn wasn't one of the options in their anticipated scenarios, and Jon had learned enough Hadian in their hasty language lessons to be able to tell she was deviating from their plans.
They had considered saying that Williams had double-crossed Jon's gang, and Jon wanted vengeance. They could say that Williams had stolen money from one of Jon's gang operations, or claim that Williams had killed one of Jon's men and Jon wanted to watch Williams die.
The problem was none of that explained Williams' human appearance. Originally they were going to tell Poltorn that Williams had been born that way, but it was a feeble explanation, requiring them to invent a background story for the pilot that, upon investigation, could be proven false.
Hoshi had had an inspiration, however, and instead of presenting an out-and-out lie, she decided to go with a half-truth. Trusting her instincts, she had used the apparent difference in the human pilot's appearance as the reason they wanted him.
She watched in satisfaction as the stonefaced Galarn reacted, his eyes widening at the mention of surgical alterations. He picked up his glass for another long swallow that finished off the contents.
After carefully putting the glass back down on the table, he asked, "How'd you know about that guy?"
"He's Jon's property," she said in a level voice.
"Property? You own him?"
"In a manner of speaking. He agreed to some new surgical techniques that Jon has the rights to."
Galarn's distrust was slowly changing to interest, and he eyed Jon speculatively. "These new techniques...they can remove finger webs and not leave scars?" he asked almost in wonder.
"Yes," Hoshi answered.
"Why'd he show up here, wandering around like he was lost, and talking out of his head?" Galarn asked.
"Apparently he didn't like the changes, and he ran before all the surgery was done." Pausing, she tried to come up with a reason for Williams speaking English. In an offhand manner, she added, "And he's probably speaking in the code we use."
As Galarn thought over what she'd said, Hoshi took a moment to look at Malcolm. She knew he couldn't follow the conversation, but he was playing the part of a thug perfectly. He stood lightly balanced on his feet, attentive to the goings-on, a slight sneer on his face. He even had his hand in his jacket pocket, where she knew he had a miniature phase pistol. For all Galarn knew, though, it was a weapon more common to his world.
A glance over her shoulder showed Trip standing as if he were carved out of stone, an impassive expression on his face and his arms crossed. He, too, was focused on the Hadian.
"How do I know what you're telling me is true?" Galarn asked suspiciously.
Hoshi went to sit in the chair next to the Hadian. Seductively she crossed her legs, leaning over to slowly remove the shoe from her foot. Galarn gasped when her bare toes were revealed -- five toes, not the six he normally would expect to see. Bending nearer, his mouth gaped as he inspected her foot as closely as he could without touching it.
"Well, that explains a lot of things," Galarn said, more to himself than the others. He gave her a lascivious smirk, then looked at Jon and said, "Poltorn will be very interested in meeting you. Come back tonight."
He pushed his chair back and rose.
As he started to leave, Hoshi called after him, a note of panic in her voice. "Wait!"
He turned around to look at her as she hastily put her shoe back on and stood. She told herself to calm down. Any show of weakness could damage their position. Taking a deep breath, she pouted. "We're not from around here. Is there any place we can get a room?"
"Try the next block over. There's a dive there," he said, then walked away without a backward glance, leaving through the door by the stage.
Mindful of the bartender still in the room, Hoshi didn't say anything to her companions. Instead she jerked her head toward the front door and led the group outside.
Other than to ask where they were going, Jon was quiet on the walk to the hotel. Hoshi could tell he was restraining himself, not wanting to talk in public but anxious to know exactly what had transpired at The One Shot.
They found the hotel, and she paid for rooms. The disinterested desk clerk didn't react to one woman and three men checking in together, and went back to reading a magazine as soon as the transaction was complete.
In keeping with the shabby decor, stuck to the elevator door was a handwritten notice: Out of Order. They had to take the stairs to reach their rooms on the third floor.
It certainly was a dive, she thought as she glanced around the run-down room she was sharing with Jon. Malcolm and Trip had an adjoining room. After Malcolm had checked both rooms for surveillance devices, they gathered in Jon and Hoshi's room for a summary of the conversation with Galarn.
"I don't know much Hadian," Jon began as he took off his hat and put it on the rickety nightstand, "but you taught me enough to know that whatever it was you were talking about didn't involve any of the contingencies we planned for."
"And what was that bit with your foot?" Trip asked.
Hoshi ignored Trip. "I know it's rather unusual for me to go astray from set plans, but I had an idea," she said haltingly, the stress of the situation catching up with her.
"And?" Jon asked, coaxing her with an impatient gesture of his hand.
"Well, you know how Hadians are fascinated to the point of obsession with altering their bodies. I mean, look at how the man who drove us here acted when he saw I had only five toes instead of six on each foot."
Jon's nod encouraged her to continue.
"Until that happened, I hadn't realized that our information about their cosmetic surgery was incomplete. As far as I knew, the only alterations were to add features, such as a second navel. Apparently, they've now progressed to removing small parts of their bodies, such as one of their toes. Phlox did say the smallest toe, which we appear to be missing, is like the finger webs. At one time in the long distant past, Hadians probably needed them, but they don't any longer."
Sitting down on the room's only chair, Hoshi kicked off her shoes. Glancing down at her feet, she smiled. "Then it hit me. Go with the obvious. Tell them we want Williams because he is different, but give them a reason for the difference. So I told Galarn that you have access to new surgical methods that account for the way Williams looks -- in essence, surgery without scars. He doesn't have finger webs, he doesn't have the sixth toe, and best of all, he has no scars to show where they were removed."
Trip chuckled. "Well, now I know why ya took your shoe off. You were tryin' to make Galarn believe you've had this surgery."
"How did you explain that Williams doesn't speak Hadian?" Jon asked.
"I didn't. Galarn said Williams was speaking in gibberish, so I told him that it was the special code our gang uses. I didn't attempt to explain why he hasn't said anything in Hadian since he didn't ask."
"That's probably for the best," Malcolm interjected from next to the window where he was watching the street below. "The less we have to fabricate, the harder it will be for us to get caught in a lie if this Poltorn or his associates get suspicious."
"I did understand that we're to meet Poltorn tonight," Jon said.
"Yes," Hoshi said, "although no time was specified."
The group lapsed into silence. As Hoshi massaged her tired feet, Trip dropped down on the bed, putting his back against the headboard and his feet on the threadbare spread. Malcolm continued to keep watch at the window as Jon paced back and forth a few times.
"I'm going to check in with T'Pol," Jon said, pulling his communicator out of his pants pocket. "Then we'll see about getting something to eat. It's going to be several hours before we go back to see Poltorn, and I want us all as rested and ready as possible."
Although they needed to maintain a low profile and keep their interactions with the Hadians to a minimum, someone had to go for food. Hoshi was the obvious choice since she was fluent in Hadian, but Jon was unwilling to let her go alone.
"Take Malcolm with you," Jon said. "And try not to draw attention to yourselves."
Groaning at the prospect of more walking, Hoshi put her shoes back on.
When they were outside the hotel, Malcolm gestured to a building down the street. "I've seen a number of people go into that place and come out with what appeared to be packages of food," he said in a soft voice for her ears only.
Hoshi nodded and started off down the street, Malcolm a step behind her as befitted a hired gun. As they walked, she took note of the Hadians who were about. She caught a few of the Hadians giving them curious stares, but any people they neared quickly got out of their way.
She sighed. It must be the clothes. Compared to the Hadians she saw, she and Malcolm were overdressed. The only other Hadian she had seen dressed in tailored, expensive-looking clothing was Galarn. The style of her red dress and high heels and her fellow officers' neat suits were a dead giveaway that they were part of a gang.
In a way, that worked in their favor. No one tried to strike up a conversation or interfere with their stroll to the restaurant. Even at a newstand where they stopped to buy a newspaper, the clerk seemed uncomfortable in their presence. The Hadians' reluctance to approach them helped maintain their cover, but it was unsettling all the same. Hoshi wondered how many of the people she saw were on Poltorn's payroll.
Arriving at the restaurant, she read the sign in the window. "It does have take-out," she said to Malcolm.
He opened the door for her and followed her inside. There were patrons at a few of the tables, but none seemed particularly interested in her or Malcolm. At the back was a swing door to the kitchen, as well as an open pass-through window where waiters could pick up orders.
A woman was standing at a counter near the front door, so Hoshi went to ask her about the menu. After a brief conversation, the woman came out from behind the counter and went to the kitchen, and Hoshi rejoined Malcolm by the door.
"It'll be a few minutes before they can get our food ready," Hoshi whispered.
"We should sit down and try to be less conspicuous," he said just as softly, and indicated a table near the counter. He took a seat where he could keep an eye on both the front door and the interior of the restaurant. Hoshi sat to one side, careful not to block his view.
They hadn't been waiting very long when a waiter carrying a tall, frosted glass approached them. He set the drink on the table in front of Hoshi.
"I didn't order that," she said.
"It's from the gentleman in the back," the waiter said, then moved away.
Hoshi peered toward the rear of the restaurant. She saw Galarn standing in the kitchen doorway, and felt her stomach plummet. She turned to get Malcolm's attention but he was already aware of Galarn's presence.
"He just came in. He must have been in the kitchen and seen us through the pass-through," Malcolm murmured out the side of his mouth.
The enticing aromas in the restaurant had made her stomach rumble in anticipation of some nourishment, but now that she'd seen Galarn, her appetite vanished. Galarn had given her the creeps the first time they'd met, and she wasn't ready for another confrontation with the strange little man. The only thing that kept her from getting up and leaving was Malcolm's reassuring presence.
Trying to cover her nervousness, she picked up the drink. She took a small sip and was pleasantly surprised to find it was some sort of thin, flavorful juice. Rubbing the cool glass against her cheek, she favored Galarn with a slight nod of acknowledgement.
"Don't overdo it," Malcolm warned in a barely audible voice.
Keeping in character, she turned and scowled at Malcolm. "Tell Jon and you're a dead man," she said in Hadian, her venomous outburst loud enough for Galarn to hear across the room. Malcolm didn't react other than to glare at her, but whether it was because he was playing his role or was angry because he didn't understand what she had said, she didn't know.
The woman Hoshi had talked to came out of the kitchen with a stack of carry-out containers. Brushing past Galarn, she made her way to their table.
"How much is this?" Hoshi asked. After being given a price, she counted out some of the currency and handed it to the woman, telling her not to bother making change.
The food paid for, Hoshi got up and strutted to the front door, leaving Malcolm to pick up the containers and follow.
"What was that about?" Malcolm said angrily as he caught up with Hoshi outside the restaurant.
"Shhh," she hissed, aware of the Hadians walking past them. She took off at a fast walk, Malcolm again a step behind her.
The hotel lobby was deserted, not even the desk clerk in sight. Hoshi all but ran for the stairwell and began climbing quickly, intent on reaching the relative safety of their rooms. Malcolm grabbed her arm when they reached the first landing, halting her headlong rush.
"What the hell was that back in the restaurant?" he demanded.
Hoshi shuddered and closed her eyes, recalling the look of satisfaction on Galarn's face as she had sipped the beverage he had sent to their table.
Malcolm released her arm. "Hoshi, what's wrong?" he asked gently.
"It's this whole mission," she said. "I'm so unlike the part I'm playing. Every time I see that little creep, I want to throw up, but we need to keep on his good side."
Leaning back against the wall, she shook her head and laughed, but there was no humor in it. "The Hadians don't think very highly of their women, at least of their intellectual capabilities. It's ironic because, since I'm the only one who can speak fluent Hadian, I'm in the position of making spur-of-the-moment decisions for us."
"You're doing a good job," he said.
"But that's not all," she continued as if he hadn't spoken. "If there's a chance for me to be alone with Poltorn, the captain wants me to take it. I might be able to get information that he wouldn't divulge in front of you or Trip or the captain, simply because he'll see me as a typical 'dumb' Hadian woman. And in keeping with what my character is supposed to be like, flirting with men like Galarn isn't out of line."
"The captain actually told you to flirt?"
"No," she said, "but when we were in the restaurant, it seemed like the best thing to do. After all, we're supposed to be making a deal with Galarn's boss. There's no reason not to be...friendly," she finished, drawing a shaky breath.
Malcolm put a hand on her shoulder. "Hoshi, you know we won't let you get hurt."
Bolstered by his reassurance, she took a deep breath to calm herself. She could almost feel her gangster moll facade fall back into place. Calmly reaching up, she removed Malcolm's hand from her shoulder. "By the way, back in the restaurant after you caught me smiling at Galarn, I said I'd kill you if you told Jon."
With a twitch of her hips, she turned and resumed climbing the stairs, leaving a thoroughly bemused armory officer holding a stack of carry-out containers staring after her.
